


The Jonquil and the Hound

by Sunnytyler001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnytyler001/pseuds/Sunnytyler001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Septon Valentynus' day in King's Landing and Sansa gets a few gifts... (during ACOK)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jonquil and the Hound

Septon Valentynus’ day was quite special in Westeros. Sansa loved it. It was such a romantic time of the year! Every man offered a flower to the woman he loved and then declared his feelings to her.

When she had first met Prince Joffrey, she had longed for that day. Now that she had at last seen his true face, she wasn’t sure she truly wanted his flowers or his compliments.

They were all poisoned and left her with a bitter taste in the mouth.

And yet, it was such a lovely day, wasn’t it? And the legend behind it was so romantic. It was said that Septon Valentynus lived centuries ago, during the time of the dragons. When he was young, he used to be a knight. A true knight, Sansa was sure of this, not like the false knights of the Kingsguard who hit her so often. Ser Valentynus would have defended her and killed them all, just like he had slain his lady’s enemies.

Because, of course, he had a lady. Her name was Astoria and she was fair and from a high birth. Valentynus, unfortunately wasn’t. He was the son of a smith and so, could not marry his beloved. After saving her from thousands of dangers, he witnessed her wedding to a noble man. He then left her to her marital happiness and became a septon so that his earthly love might become a spiritual one. He began to wander the lands of Westeros, helping the innocents with soothing words instead of with his sword. And then, one day, a young couple came to him. She was a noble lady and he was a soldier from common birth. It wasn’t said in the texts, but Sansa always supposed that they reminded him of himself and Astoria. He married them and, from this moment on, he became the champion of impossible love.

Sansa gave a sad sigh. She should have been born at that time. A true knight would have come for her and rescued her from this hell. He would have taken her hand and they would have run away. He would have a black horse. She knew that in most of the stories, the knight’s horse was white, but hers would be black. And once the danger would be miles away, he would stop his horse and drop to the ground before grabbing her waist and holding her closely. He would have a broad chest where she could rest her head and enjoy the warmth and the safety of his embrace. Then, she would reward him with a kiss.

He would be from common-birth, just like Valentynus, or from a lower-birth than hers, anyway. So, instead of going home, they would go and find the good septon. They would tell him their tale and he would marry them. She would write a letter to her family, so that they wouldn’t worry for her, and she would live with her true love at the edge of a northern forest, until the end of time.

As she lingered in her daydream, happy and smiling, she felt a huge hand on her shoulder.

Its touch was warm and gentle. She could imagine it was her knight’s.

But then, the knight spoke, his voice as terrible as thunder, and Sansa started to tremble.

It was no true knight. It was the Hound.

“The King wants to see you.”

Sansa nodded and swallowed nervously. She followed the Hound silently, as she remembered he disliked her “chirping”. However, she needed to know.

“I am sorry…” she stopped herself before calling him ‘Ser’, “do you know why the King wants to see me?”

The Hound turned himself sharply in her direction and looked at her as she had been the one with scars on her face. Then, he burst out laughing, leaving Sansa wondering if she had said something funny.

“Come on, little bird. You, of all people, should know which day it is.” He replied.

Joffrey wanted to wish her a good Septon Valentynus’ day? She would have never thought he would be so thoughtful. But then again, he had a twisted mind. What kind of gift was he going to give her?

She had her answer quite quickly. The whole court was in the throne’s room, this cold and huge place she had learned to hate. Even before her father’s beheading, it had given her shivers and made her worry for the future. Would Joffrey love her? Would the people love her? They didn’t. They all hated her. They wanted her head as they had her father’s. She wished she was so far away from King’s Landing. She wished she was at Winterfell, with her brothers and sisters, with her lord father and lady mother. She wished all of this was an awful nightmare.

Joffrey was sitting on his iron chair and had a wicked smile upon his face. The same face Sansa had once found so handsome.

In front of him, lying on the ground, there was a pelt. A wolf pelt. The fur was beautiful, grey with a silvery shine. But then, Sansa thought of the poor animal they had killed to get such a gift. She thought of Lady, so sweet and well-mannered and how her father was forced to kill her because of Joffrey … and because of her lies, Sansa added to herself, feeling guilt rise inside her.

That wolf pelt symbolized what Joffrey wanted to do to the members to her family. But Robb would win, yes he would. He would put Joffrey’s ugly head on the spike and Sansa would sing and dance around it.

“Here is your gift” the false king said, gesturing to the wolf’s pelt at his feet. “Don’t you think it is a very generous gift?”

Everyone was looking at her, waiting for her answer. Were they hoping that this new outrage would make her lose her calm temper?

They surely were. Behind their honeyed smiles, they were all liars. Knights and nobles, all of them, they were Joffrey’s pets. At least, the Hound had the courage to admit it. But the courtesans had no valour, no honour. She was all alone, surrounded by lions. If she wanted to live, she had to become a liar too.

“Yes, your grace, very generous and very beautiful. I thank you very much.”

Sansa wished it was Joffrey’s corpse lying on the cold ground and not a poor wolf’s.

“Guards! Take that pelt and put it in Lady Sansa’s room. I am sure it will give her the most lovely dreams.”

Sansa shivered at she imagined herself as this poor wolf, killed and skinned, on Joffrey’s order. How could anyone be so cruel?

Sansa curtsied in front of the king in thanks for his gift but she knew he was not happy with her reaction. He wanted tears; he wanted to see her humiliation. Well, he would get nothing, expect courtesy. It was her only armour and she would never give it up.

“Before I forget, my lady! Here are some roses for you.” The boy king said, while clapping his hands.

A servant came forward, holding a bunch of white roses. Sansa found them pretty, but when she tried to take the bunch, she realized the thorns were very sharp.

“Well, take it then!”, the king commanded, “Gods, are you that stupid that you can’t hold flowers?”

Sansa exchanged a look with the Hound. No words were needed. She knew very well what he was thinking; they already had this conversation: “Do what he says”, the Hound had once told her.

So Sansa did as she was said, as a good little bird.

“Hold it firmly, by the stems” The King continued.

It was not the proper way to hold a bunch of flowers, Sansa knew it. Joffrey just wanted to see her blood.

Sansa breathed deeply and tried not to scream as the thorns sank in her tender flesh.

“They are beautiful, your grace. You are very generous in deed”, Sansa replied weakly.

Joffrey sent her a look of disappointment at the lack of crying on her part..

“Well, that’s it for today then. Dog, take her back to her room.”

The Hound obeyed, taking Sansa’s arm and pulling her through the castle’s corridors to her room.

She knew he was watching her but Sansa found the expression on Sandor Clegane’s face unfathomable. Then, she saw that his gaze turned to her bloodied hands and something like sadness passed through his grey eyes.

When he realized she was watching him too, the Hound turned his eyes back to the path ahead, concentrating on navigating the route from the Iron Throne to her chambers

“You can stop holding those buggering flowers now”, he grumbled, his voice so low that only she could hear it.

Sansa was surprised by this advice. Did he really care for her hands or was it another trap from Joffrey? The Hound hated lies, Sansa remembered. He might be Joffrey’s dog, but, for all the horrors he had done, he was at least honest.

“You know I can’t”, Sansa whispered back, “He would know”

The Hound seemed surprised by her reply, and strangely pleased. Yes, the Little Bird was starting to learn. But it was quite a hard lesson, and Sansa would have liked some less painful methods.

When they arrived in front of her room, the Hound opened the door for her and let her in.

He stayed on the threshold while she, at last, let the roses of hate fall on her bed.

“You should ask your handmaiden to see to your hands.”

The Hound’s voice, for once, was calm and gentle. It had no anger in it. It was like another man had taken his place and was talking to her now. A kind man, caring for her. It was Sandor, not the Hound.

Maybe this was another illusion; maybe she was still a very silly little bird after all, seeing kindness where there was only indifference.

However, Sansa turned herself in the Hound’s direction and smiled at him. After all, she was a good girl and she never forgot her courtesies.

“I will, thank you, Hound.”

The Hound nodded and turned to leave, but then, he came back and closed the door before walking towards her.

Suddenly, Sansa was afraid. What did he want with her that needed to be done behind closed doors?

Sansa prepared herself for the worst, when she saw the Hound hold out something green and yellow.

The girl calmed down, recognizing the flower. It was her favourite! A jonquil! It was small but beautiful.

She let a girlish giggle escape her and looked at the Hound. His face was bright red and he seemed annoyed.

“Bugger it! Come on, girl, take it”, he said impatiently, “We haven’t got all day.”

Sansa nodded and obeyed, her fingers brushing against his huge hand, sending shivers along her spine.

“This one has no thorns”, he explained, “I thought it would suit a little bird better”

He fled from her room as soon as she had taken the flower from his hand. He did it so fast she had no time to thank him and Sansa felt guilty about it, knowing that Septa Mordane would have been very disappointed with her. But then, her good septa would have been even more disappointed to learn she was accepting flowers from a man other than her betrothed.

However, it was not like if the Hound had been expecting something in return for this flower. He had just been gentle, as he sometimes was with her, for reasons she still did not understand. The flower had been like the handkerchief he had given her on the day she had nearly killed Joffrey. An act of pure kindness and nothing else.

Sansa sighed as she realized she couldn’t keep the flower. It was such a shame! Her only worthy Septon Valentyne’s gift and she would have to throw it away. If her handmaiden saw it, she would think she had a lover and Joffrey would most likely have her head for it.

Maybe the Hound would feel guilty then and rescue her for good? She didn’t think he would.

After all, he was still loyal to the Lannisters.

But she wanted to keep it so much! This jonquil was so lovely and so small! Surely she could hide it somewhere.

Suddenly, Sansa had an idea and she smiled. She took one of her books and put it between two pages. When she saw the book’s title, her smiled grew as she thought of how appropriate it was.

“Florian & Jonquil”.


End file.
